Tomato Girl

by Jayne Pupek

  As I picked up a bowl to carry to the sink, the door opened. Tess walked in, crying. “Oh, God, Ellie. I couldn’t stop him.”

  I turned, startled. “Where’s Daddy? Stop him from what?”

  “He left. I begged him not to go,” she sobbed, collapsing on a chair. She buried her face in her hands and leaned forward until her head landed on the table.

  I rushed to the window and looked out to see Daddy’s car gone.

  “What are we going to do?” Tess said. “He took the gun, Ellie. He took the gun!”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  SPOON

  I KNEW WHAT IT meant that Daddy took his gun. Tess knew, too. She paced the kitchen floor and chewed her nails. “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  “Why did you have to come here, Tess? Why couldn’t you leave Daddy alone? He isn’t yours! He belongs to Mama and me! Why couldn’t you pick Roger or somebody else? Why couldn’t you sell your tomatoes and buy a bus ticket to some other town?”

  “Please, Ellie. Don’t be mean to me,” she pleaded like a child. “I didn’t plan for things to turn out this way. I love your Daddy, I really do. I never wanted anything bad to happen. I tried to stop him. Honest, I did.”

  “But you didn’t stop him, Tess. He’s gone, and we don’t know if he’s coming …” I couldn’t finish. My words turned to sobs. I sank to the floor and cried, pressing my face into my hands.

  Tess sat down beside me and touched my hair. “Oh, Ellie. Don’t cry. Please don’t.”

  I pushed her hand away. “Leave me alone, Tess. You were supposed to help my mother, but that’s not why you came, was it? You stole Daddy, and made Mama sad. You dropped … you dropped my chick in the river. You … you’re bad!”

  Tess frowned. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Ellie. I mess up things sometimes. I don’t know why.”

  “I don’t want … to talk about it … anymore. Just leave me … alone,” I said between sobs.

  A siren blared outside, and Tess and I both ran to the door, then out onto the porch.

  We watched an ambulance drive by, headed toward someone else’s house, down Grace Street.

  Daddy was still safe. At least for now.

  Tess walked back inside, but I stayed on the porch. Before Tess came, Daddy and I would take walks on evenings like this. Sometimes, Mama came along, too. There were whole weeks when Mama acted like everyone else’s mother. No tears or broken things, no giggles that wouldn’t end, only cookies and a quiet voice.

  I tried not to think about Daddy and Mr. Reed arguing, but whenever you try not to think of something, you always do. Tess lived out in the country, so the drive would take Daddy some time even if he drove fast, which I figured he would do. Maybe the drive would calm him down and give him time to think. The car might even run out of gas and Daddy would have to hitch a ride back into town. Maybe Mr. Reed wouldn’t be home.

  When I came back into the house, I noticed Tess washing the dishes. She’s probably right to keep busy, I thought. I picked up a towel to dry the plates. Their smooth surfaces reflected my face and showed me how worried I looked.

  “Thanks, Ellie.” Tess spoke in a low voice, barely a whisper. Her pale blonde hair lay flat across her head, all her salon curls washed away.

  The clock told me Daddy had been gone for just under an hour. He’d be at Mason Reed’s house by now, walking up to the front door.

  Tess rubbed her forehead the way grown-ups do when they have a headache, pressing fingers against their skull. She pulled the plug in the sink, and I heard the dirty water run down the drain.

  The clock ticked, sending the red second hand around and around.

  Daddy would be knocking on the screen door by now. He’d be running his fingers through his hair, waiting for Mason Reed to pull himself up from his sofa and limp to the door on his twisted ankle. The inside of his house would surely be filthy with Tess gone.

  Maybe Daddy would walk inside this nasty house and decide Mr. Reed wasn’t worth the trouble. Not even for Tess.

  I tried to focus on the plate in my hand, the china smooth and warm against my skin.

  Tess leaned against the sink, her flat belly pressed against the counter. She moved both hands to her head and groaned. All the arguing must have given her a very bad headache.

  Mama’s bottle of pain pills were on the window sill. I thought about offering Tess one, but decided not to.

  Tess wobbled at the sink. I glanced at her face to try to figure out what was the matter. Her eyes blinked fast, again and again, and all I could see was the white part. It was as if her eyes had rolled into her head and locked there. A few seconds later, Tess collapsed on the kitchen floor, falling like a marionette with cut strings.

  “Tess!” I screamed. Could a girl stand at the sink washing dishes and seconds later drop dead? Kneeling beside her body, I touched her arm. She felt stiff.

  What was happening?

  Her skin turned pale and splotchy, then her legs twitched, both legs at the same time, as if they were joined to a single wire. Next, her whole body jerked. She thrashed on the floor.

  Epilepsy. Seizure.

  Mary Roberts had described what they looked like, but seeing Tess this way frightened me.

  Her body rose a few inches, then slammed against the floor, flopping like a fish tossed on the river bank. Her head made a thud every time it hit the floor. Her arms flew out, hitting me. I lost my balance, landing on my back.

  I turned and quickly stood up. How long would this last? What should I do?

  Just then, I remembered the spoon. “You have to put a spoon in their mouth or they’ll bite their tongue off,” Mary had said.

  I thought if the time came, I wouldn’t care if Tess bit off her tongue, but I was too scared to be mean to her now. “Don’t let her die, God,” I prayed. If Daddy came home and saw I’d let Tess bite off her tongue, he wouldn’t love me anymore. Not ever. He might even go to that place in his mind where Mama goes.

  A spoon. I had to find a spoon and get it into her mouth. As Tess thrashed on the floor, I reached into the sink, pulled out a teaspoon.

  Kneeling beside Tess, I saw drops of blood coming from her mouth. Oh, God, don’t let me be too late. Please.

  Her face was gray, and her skin felt cool now. I couldn’t help but think of Jellybean, cold and stiff in his little grave, and Baby Tom, floating in his jar. Tess couldn’t die.

  “I’m sorry, Tess. I didn’t mean those bad things I said. Please don’t die.”

  It took all my strength to lift her head onto my lap. My hand hurt from my own cut palm, but I tried to hold her still. Her head thumped against my legs so hard I thought my knees would crack. I tried to slip the spoon inside her mouth, but her teeth clenched down.

  I remembered how Mama got me to take medicine when I’d refuse to open my mouth. She’d pinch my nose closed until I opened my mouth to breathe, then in with the spoon.

  Maybe that would work with Tess. I reached for her nose, but her head wouldn’t stay still for more than a second. Every time I tried, her head rocked in my lap and I lost my grip. My fingers, wet with blood, slipped when she moved. I pressed my hand across her nose like a cup, hoping to force her mouth open for air.

  A few seconds later, I saw a small opening and shoved the spoon inside. Her teeth clamped down hard, and she almost bit the tip of my finger. I barely managed to hold onto the spoon, but gripped with all my might and pushed it deeper until her tongue was under it.

  I sat on the floor with Tess and waited for the thrashing to stop. My arms hurt from holding her so tight. Sweat ran down my face, burning my eyes, but I didn’t dare move my hands.

  I looked at the clock again. Only a few minutes had passed. It seemed much longer. I wished Daddy would come home and tell me what to do.

  Floorboards creaked overhead. I prayed Mama would stay upstairs. She’d only make this worse. She might even be happy to let Tess die.

  The toilet flushed, and the soft thud of feet followed. I held my breath,
listening for the door. The creak sounded more like bedsprings. Good, I thought.

  Tess jerked one final time in my lap, then grew still. At first, I thought maybe she’d died, but then she groaned. Her eyes searched the room as if she didn’t know where she was. I slipped the spoon from her mouth, glad to see her tongue move as she licked her blood-smeared lips.

  “You’ll be okay, Tess,” I whispered.

  She didn’t seem to hear or see me.

  I eased her head from my lap and let it rest against the floor. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

  As I laid the spoon on the floor and moved to stand up, I noticed a yellowish puddle spread on the floor under Tess.

  “I’ll bring some clean clothes, too.”

  I hurried upstairs and found clean panties and a blue dress for Tess. I didn’t want to go to the hall closet for another blanket and risk Mama hearing me, so I pulled the quilt from my bed, and carried the bundle back to the kitchen.

  When I saw Tess, I dropped the blanket and clothes.

  She sat on the floor, leaning against the stove. Her eyes seemed to look right through me, as if she couldn’t see. She’d taken off her wet panties, and her skirt was pulled up over her knees. Her hand smacked between her legs. “Please, Papa, don’t. It hurts, it hurts,” she cried.

  When I saw Tess, I thought about the dirty things her father had done to her after her seizures. I swallowed hard, forcing the sour taste down my throat.

  “Tess, please don’t,” I said as I stepped toward her.

  “Ellie?” Tess said my name like a question. She acted like she hardly knew me. Her eyes moved around the room as if seeing it for the first time. At least she’d stopped hitting herself.

  Kneeling beside Tess, I tried to comfort her. “It’s me, Tess. It’s Ellie. Don’t you remember? We played Avon Lady in my room, and you braided my hair. You gave me kissing lessons. Remember?”

  She studied my face. Her eyes moved as she looked at me. She reached up with one hand to touch my arm. “I remember, Ellie. Ellie with the Jellybean bird.”

  “That’s right.” I made myself smile.

  She wrinkled up her forehead. “Oh, no. The funeral. There was a funeral, wasn’t there? Jellybean died, and we buried … and then she called me the baby killer … and Rupert? … Where’s Rupert?” She tried to sit up more, then winced. Her body must have hurt from banging so hard against the floor.

  “Papa, he … he hurt me down there.”

  “He wasn’t here, Tess. You had a bad dream, that’s all.”

  “No, no. I remember. I fell, and then he was on me, pushing me. And …” She sobbed, and started clawing between her legs as if she could feel her father there.

  I managed to pull her hands away and to make her stop. Then I placed the blanket over her body, and stroked her face, wet with tears. “Tess, please. You have to believe me. You had a seizure, but your papa isn’t here. He was never here.”

  “I hurt too much. I want Rupert. Where’s Rupert?”

  “Oh, Tess, I want him, too, but he’s not here.” If only someone could tell me what to do.

  I stood up and walked to the telephone. Maybe I should call someone. Mr. Morgan? Miss Wilder? Maybe the ambulance?

  Without knowing who to call or what to say, I picked up the receiver and took a deep breath.

  Just as I placed my finger in the dial, a screeching noise came from outside the front of the house. Then a car door slammed. “Daddy?” I called.

  I dropped the phone and ran toward the door. As I pulled the door open, Daddy stepped inside.

  My father looked right past me. When he saw Tess on the floor, his face turned white. “Oh, God, what happened? What happened?” Daddy ran to Tess and knelt at her side. He took her face in his hands and kissed her mouth, her cheeks, even her eyes.

  “I tried to help her, Daddy.” My voice broke as I explained. “She started shaking, and then she fell.”

  Daddy looked up at me. “A seizure? How long?”

  “Yes. I don’t … It seemed long, but … and … and I put a spoon in her mouth, but she’d already bit her tongue a little.”

  Daddy looked at Tess’s mouth. “Open, let me see, baby.”

  Tess opened her mouth for Daddy to check the cut.

  “Not too bad. Just a little cut.” Daddy wiped the blood from her lips. Then he looked at me and said, “You did fine, Ellie. You took good care of her.”

  Tess cried. She gripped Daddy’s shirt. “I thought he was on me, Rupert. I could feel him, smell him.”

  “Hush, it’s okay.”

  She nodded, wiping tears from her face.

  “I was getting ready to call the ambulance when you came, Daddy. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “No, no ambulance. I’m here now. I’ll take care of her.”

  “I tried, Daddy. I was scared.”

  “You did good, Ellie. It’s okay.”

  Daddy yanked away the blanket covering Tess. There was pee and a small amount of blood on the floor under Tess. Daddy looked at me. “Ellie, go upstairs and bring Vaseline, bandages, and clean towels.”

  I hurried to the bathroom and gathered the things Daddy wanted. I was glad Tess had brought her own Vaseline, so I didn’t have to go into Mama’s bathroom and take it from her medicine chest.

  Back downstairs, I handed Daddy the jar, bandages, and towels, then curled up in the corner to stay out of his way.

  Daddy didn’t notice me. He busied himself tending Tess, cleaning her. As he did it, he talked softly. “You’re okay now, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry. Mason Reed can’t ever come near you again. I made sure of that.”

  Tess looked at Daddy with wide eyes. “Oh, Rupert, what have you done?”

  “Only what he had coming. What somebody should’ve done a long time ago.”

  Tess grabbed Daddy by the arms as if she wanted to shake the truth from him. “Tell me you just hit him, Rupert. Tell me you only gave him a piece of your mind. You wouldn’t … you didn’t hurt him, did you?”

  Daddy picked up the Vaseline jar and threw it against the kitchen wall. The glass broke, smearing the wallpaper.

  “I’m sorry, Tess. Look, you hush now. Just rest, and let me handle everything.”

  Daddy looked across the room and saw me in the corner. His eyes darkened like wet stones.

  TWENTY-NINE

  LEAVING

  DADDY AIMING THE GUN at Mason Reed … His finger pulling the trigger … Mason Reed falling to the floor … Blood in a dark red puddle …

  These pictures played in my head as if I’d stood in the room and watched Daddy shoot the man.

  Still seated on the floor, Tess leaned against the stove. She put her hands over her face and cried, her shoulders curled inward. She pulled her knees to her chest as if trying to ball her body into something tight and closed.

  I wanted to tell her, “You should be glad,” but that would’ve meant saying out loud that Daddy was a murderer.

  When Tess stopped crying, her voice was sharp and high. “How could you, Rupert?”

  “Tess, shut up,” I yelled. Daddy had done this awful thing for her, because of her. How could she blame or question him? “You know Daddy wouldn’t hurt anybody. Just shut up!” The word kill almost came out instead of hurt. No, no, I couldn’t say it. I squeezed my fists tight and reminded myself to be careful.

  Still, my voice must have startled Tess. She stared at me, a stunned look on her face. She made a sniffling sound and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “You’re right, Ellie. I’m just upset. So much has happened … and I … I’m not thinking straight … my head,” she said, rubbing her eyebrows.

  I wanted Daddy to deny what he’d done, but he didn’t say another word about Mason Reed. He didn’t even ask us to keep this night’s events secret. He didn’t have to. I’d never tell anyone—not Mama, not Mr. Morgan, not even Mary Roberts.

  Tess complained again about the pain in her head.

  “Let’s try a compr
ess,” Daddy said as he walked to the sink. He pulled out one of Mama’s dishrags from the drawer, held it under running water, squeezed the excess into the sink, and returned to Tess. He knelt beside her. “Hold it right there and close your eyes,” Daddy said, pressing the wet cloth to her forehead and positioning her hand to anchor it.

  While Tess rested, Daddy came over and sat on the floor next to me. “You did good tonight, Ellie.” He picked up my hand and kissed it.

  “I didn’t do it for her, Daddy. I hate Tess.” I whispered so Tess wouldn’t hear me. If we started arguing, Mama might wake up and come downstairs. Mama couldn’t know about the spoon, or the letter, or about Daddy going out with the gun. Not ever.

  “Don’t hate her, Ellie. It breaks my heart to even hear you say that.” Daddy looked at me with eyes so sad I wanted to take back my words, but I didn’t. Tess had ruined everything. I did hate her. I wanted to hate her for the rest of my life.

  “You better get some sleep, Ellie.” Daddy stood up and walked to the front window. He pulled back the tan curtain and looked outside, his eyes searching. I knew from his furrowed brow he wasn’t looking for stars or the moon. He was looking for something else, something eyes can’t see.

  “Can I sleep down here on the sofa?” Going upstairs seemed too far from Daddy.

  He turned toward me and nodded. “Tess will sleep in the sewing room on my bed.”

  “Where will you sleep, Daddy?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll nap in a chair. I’m not too sleepy anyhow.”

  I stood up and moved to the sofa, curling up on my side so my skirt covered my legs. Daddy pulled off my shoes and massaged my feet in his large hands, warming them. He took the afghan from the sofa’s back to wrap around me, careful to tuck the edges under me.

  “Will you check on Mama before you go to sleep? She hardly touched her supper.” I hadn’t eaten either, but didn’t feel hungry.

  Daddy pulled the cover under my chin and rubbed my shoulder. “Yes, I’ll check on her. I’ll take her some saltines if she’s hungry.”

  “Promise?” I yawned. My eyelids felt heavy.